Order!" commanded Nick. "Once more I refuse to be the bone of contention between you. You will tear me to shreds among you, and even the great Dr. Wyndham might find some difficulty in putting me together again. Olga, give us some music!"
"I can't, dear," said Olga.
He frowned at her. "Why not?"
She hesitated. "I'm not in the mood for it. At least—"
"Am I the obstacle?" asked Max.
She could not control her colour, though she strove resolutely to appear as if she had not heard.
He turned to Violet, faintly smiling. "Shall we take a stroll in the garden?"
She rose, flinging a gay glance at Olga. "Just two turns!" she said.
He held aside the curtain for her, and followed her out, with a careless jest. The two who were left heard them laughing as they sauntered away. Olga rose with a shiver.
"What's the matter?" said Nick.
To which she answered, "Nothing," knowing that he would not believe her, knowing also that he would understand enough to ask no more.
She went to the piano, put aside the mandolin, and began to play. Not even to Nick, her hero and her close confidant, would she explain the absolute repugnance that the association of Max Wyndham with her friend had inspired in her.
But though she played with apparent absorption, her ears were strained to catch the sound of their voices in the garden behind her, the girl's light chatter, her companion's brief, cynical laugh. For she knew by the sure intuition which is a woman's inner and unerring vision, that jest or trifle as he might his keen brain was actively employed in some subtle investigation too obscure for her to fathom, and that behind his badinage and behind his cynicism there sat a man who watched.
CHAPTER VI
THE PAIN-KILLER
"I am going over to Brethaven to see Mrs. Briggs to-day," Olga announced nearly a week later, waylaying Max after breakfast on his way to the surgery with the air of one prepared to resist opposition. "Are you wanting the car this morning, Dr. Wyndham?"
She knew that he would be engaged at the cottage-hospital that morning, but it was one of Dr. Ratcliffe's strict rules that the car should never be used unprofessionally without express permission from himself or his assistant. Naturally Olga resented having to observe this rule in her father's absence and her manner betrayed as much, but she was too conscientious to neglect its observance.
"You don't propose to go alone, I suppose?" said Max, pausing.
This was another of her father's rules and one which Olga had often vainly attempted to persuade him to rescind. Under these circumstances, Max's question seemed little short of an insult.
"I don't see what that has to do with it," she said.
Max looked at his watch, then turned squarely and faced her. "With me, you mean. Very likely not. But there is a remote connection or I shouldn't ask. Are you going to take Nick with you?"
"He is going part of the way," said Olga, striving for dignity.
"Only part?"
"As far as the station," she returned, almost in spite of herself.
"Going up to town, is he?" said Max. "Well, that doesn't help much. Take one of the boys!"
"I don't want one of the boys," Olga spoke with sudden irritation.
"Violet is going with me," she said.
His face changed very slightly, almost imperceptibly. "In that case you must take Mitchel," he said.
"How absurd!" exclaimed Olga.
"No, it isn't absurd. It's quite reasonable from my point of view. If you can't take Mitchel with you, I can't spare the car."
He smiled a little as he pronounced this decision, but quite plainly his mind was made up.
Olga bit her lip in exasperation. "Do you think I am not to be trusted to take care of her?" she asked him scornfully. "I shall ask Nick if I need do anything so ridiculous!"
"Here he is," said Nick, coming lightly up behind her with the words. "What's the trouble now? If you are requiring my valuable advice, it is quite at your service."
Olga turned to him at once. "Nick, it's really too silly for words. Dr.
Wyndham makes mountains out of molehills."
"That's very ingenious of him," commented Nick. "I shouldn't harass the man if I were you, Olga. He's been out all night."
Olga pounced upon this fact. "I expect Mitchel has too, then, so he just won't be able to go."
"No," said Max. "I didn't take the car or Mitchel. It chanced to be a case in the village, and I bicycled."
"Who was it?" asked Olga eagerly; and then restrained herself with annoyance. "But of course you won't tell me. You're much too professional."
"Keep to the point!" ordered Nick.
Olga slipped a coaxing arm round his neck. "Nick, don't you think it absurd that Violet and I shouldn't motor over to Brethaven without a man to take care of us? I am quite certain Dad wouldn't object."
"There you are wrong," said Max. "If your father were here, he would forbid it—as I do."
He spoke with emphasis, and glanced again at his watch as he did so.
"He doesn't object to my going alone with one of the boys," said Olga. "It's only Violet who is too precious to go motoring without a full-grown escort. As if I weren't quite capable of taking care of her!"
"It's not that at all," said Max curtly. "I can't stop to argue, so please make up your mind what you are going to do. I'm sorry you've been dragged into the discussion, Ratcliffe. I daresay it seems a senseless one to you, but I have my reasons."
Nick looked at him for a moment, a quick gleam of comprehension behind his flickering eyelids. "It won't hurt you to take Mitchel, Olga mia," he said.
"Oh, Nick!" There was deep reproach in Olga's voice, and at sound of it
Max smiled with dry humour.
Nick laughed outright, openly heartless. "My beloved chicken, who is making mountains out of molehills now? I would escort you myself if I hadn't got to attend this committee meeting in town—a million plagues upon it! Come along and open my letters for me! We are wasting time."
"I do think you needn't take his part," said Olga, as Max disappeared into the surgery. "He's quite bullying and tyrannical enough without that."
"I'm inclined to sympathize with the young man
